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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277453">No More Tears to Shed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomTopHat/pseuds/PhantomTopHat'>PhantomTopHat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Donald Duck Needs a Hug, Donald Duck and Scrooge McDuck Reconcile, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Episode: s02e10 The 87 Cent Solution!, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Honorary Duck Family Member Webby Vanderquack, Hurt/Comfort, Sad Donald Duck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:15:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomTopHat/pseuds/PhantomTopHat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Donald once again faces the ugly truth, that love ones do not live forever and he needs to be there for his kids as morn for their great uncle. But wait Uncle Scrooge isn't dead and this was all a set up to stop Glomgold! Why didn't anyone bother to tell him that the Duck  who raised him since he was ten, that he consider as a father was not dead! Was he really the unimportant to be told what was going on, can he easily get over this incident and move past it ?   It's up to the family to fix the wrong they wrote and mend a shattered duck's heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Donald Duck deserves love and I am giving it to him, especially near the end of this episode !!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   His body was shaking uncontrollably as the familiar feeling of loss took hold of him. Why did this have to happen again, why did death have to rear its ugly head and steal away someone from him once again. Was it a cruel joke on his part or was he bound to watch the ones he loved be buried? Donald didn't know, what he did know was he could not stop the heavy tears the streamed down his checks. He leaned against the large mansion that his boys called home and tried to stop the sobs building up in his throat. He even went as far as to squeeze his beak shut, but that did nothing. He couldn't control the grief that erupted out his body and he let out another wail of sadness.</p><p>  "Why'd you have to take him?" He asked to the sky as if someone up there was listening to the duck's sorrows. "Haven't you taken enough people from them from me?" He asked as he wiped away the tears that still lingered on his face and wrapped his arms around himself as tightly as he could to simulate a hug before he turned away from the sky. He didn't have any more questions to ask out loud so he just stared down at his webbed feet and tried to take control of the dried sobs that built up in his thought.<br/>He felt like he was ten years old all over again, standing to the side of his parents’ coffins holding his twin sister's hand with all the strength he could muster up at that time. He couldn’t bring himself to watch the wooden boxes be lowered into the ground as some sad song played on bagpipes filled the background. Donald could almost hear Della fight back her own tears, but those tears weren’t made of sadness or grief like his own, but of anger and rage.</p><p>  He could easily remember how any found memory would she set her off and she’s start to yell and throw things. The fits started when they were given to Scrooge to live with. They would be setting up their room when her first rage attack would happen. He recalled the fuse to the anger bomb was lit when he pulled out a family photo of his parents and them at the beach just a year ago. That was when the first bomb of emotional rage went off and Donald was there to comfort her.</p><p>  "How could they do this to us Donny," she would scream, that was followed with her kicking something on the ground or throwing something in their shared room. "why did they have to go and die on us!" Donald would hold his tongue and let her burn off this anger and when it was safe for him to approach, he’d wrap her in a carrying embrace and she’s latched onto him and dig her face into his shoulder. "I miss them Donald." She'd cry each time</p><p>  "I know Dell, I do too." Donald was there for Della each time she needed him and Scrooge was there for him. He remembered when his uncle peeked in on him sitting on his bed, hands in his lap and just staring at the giant map Della had on her side of the room that was decorated with squiggles of notes she made.</p><p>  "Everything alright lad?" His uncle asked as he fully stepped into the room taking in the sight of the destruction that was one of Della's acts of grief. The duckling just shrugged as he tried to get lost in the map.</p><p>  "Yeah Uncle Scrooge, everything's fine." He said, but his uncle knew better. Scrooge walked over to his nephew and sat next to him.</p><p>  "Aye lad you and I both know that's not the truth," he placed his hand on Donald's small shoulder. Something that Donald will never be able to feel again. "Mind telling me once more what's bothering ya?" The older duck asked and for the first time since his parents passing; Donald broke down crying and Scrooge didn't hesitant to wrap his nephew in a warm safe and caring hug.</p><p>  "I miss them Uncle Scrooge, I want them back." He cried into his uncle's chest. Scrooge shushed his sobs as he ran a hand through the duckling’s feathers.</p><p> "There, there, it'll be alright lad. I'm here for ya."</p><p>  But now in the present, Donald didn’t have anyone to comfort him like his uncle did way back then. He felt alone once more and he couldn't deal with it, not again. He was cracked when his parents died, he was chipped when Della got lost in space and now, he was crumbling, because his uncle was now lying in a coffin inside and he was outside with no one, he was alone.</p><p>  Realization hit the duck. I can't be out here crying, my boys are in there mourning the loss of their great uncle, they need me for them like I needed him. He thought to himself leaning away from the wall. He straightened out hos jacket and adjusted his hat. He took a deep breath and fixed his attention towards the entrance of the mansion.</p><p> "Okay Donald you can do this they need their uncle." He told himself as he walked inside as he wiped away some more tears brought on by his tip through memory lane and prepared himself to look at the coffin once more. When he looked up his heart beat stopped. There in the middle of the isle was his Uncle Scrooge standing over Glomgold. "You're alive?" He asked, not sure if the sight in front of him was real. Everyone turned to him as if they were shocked by his presents and not the supposedly dead duck that was very much.</p><p>  "You're alive!" He cried out. But the feeling of pure happiness did not last long, it was quickly replaced with light headedness, the world around him began to spin and soon everything in front of him went black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay this was going to be a two chapter then and there but, my mind started to go and well now it might be a chapter or a few more longer who knows. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   It had been a few days since the mock funeral and idea of everything going to go back to normal was a fading dream.</p><p>   It started soon after Mrs. Beakley managed to bring Donald too. It only took her some smelling salts she kept on her from the numerous times Scrooge threw himself into an over reacted state which led to the old duck to faint and the ability to talk Dewey out of just dumping a bucket of water on him. That would lead into another mess she did not feel like cleaning up after.</p><p>   When Donald slowly came around the first thing, he took in was how foggy and light his head felt like, it brought back to the time when his kids were in preschool and he worked the grave yard shift at the local mechanic’s shop doing all the jobs the "real" mechanics were too busy to deal with. Those nights where heavily followed by the long days of little sleep so he could look after the kids and be there when he was needed.</p><p>    His heart no longer thumped heavily in his chest and his breath no longer painfully caught in his throat every time he took a breath. He let out a soft groan that tried to get caught in his throat, but he pushed it out. As he slowly opened his eyes it was obvious for him that his eyelids easily stuck together that lead him to realize he was out for a while. At fist his vision was a bit muddy and he could barely make out the group that waited in front of him. The seemingly bright light burned his eyes with too much ease and Donald rubbed his eyes that gave him yet another clue on how long he was out cold. His back was stiffer than normal giving him memories of spending nights on the hard wood floor because one of the triplets had a nightmare and he promised them that he would spend the night in their room and watch over them while they slept.<br/>
When his vision did clear there stood the once proclaimed dead Scrooge Mcduck along with the kids who stood even at each side all with a face of worry.</p><p>     "How you feeling lad?" Scrooge asked as he reached out a hand to help his nephew up, but Donald ignored the offer and stood up on his own, he let out another groan thanks to his stiff limbs. Not a word left the duck's mouth as he adjusted himself and he just stared at his uncle when he was done with his stretches. Scrooge noticed the slight redness in Donald's eyes and the damp feathers from the numerous tears he must have shed over his fake passing.</p><p>      Donald opened his mouth to speak and everyone prepared for a response. Louie and Webby prepared for Donald to break out in sobs again they could see the way his eyes began to fill with tears, while Dewey and Scrooge were ready for Donald to flip his lid at them for not letting him know. Huey just hoped that Donald would hug Scrooge in the end and be glad he wasn't dead. But none of those scenarios played through, even Mrs. Beakley was prepared to pry the angry Donald off of his uncle. To everyone's surprise Donald just stood there in complete silence.</p><p>  "Uncle Donald are you okay?" Dewey asked with weary as if not to set his uncle off just in case it was an eye of a hurricane scenario.</p><p>  "Yeah, often after fainting the person sometimes feels light headed and needs to sit or lay down." Huey added in as he flipped through his guide book.</p><p>  "Maybe you should sit down." Webby suggested</p><p>   "The children are right maybe," Mrs. Beakley said but was cut off when Donald let out a frustrated breath and held up a hand to gesture for them to stop while he pinched the brig of his beak.</p><p>   "I'm alright." He said with a look to each of the duckling to make sure the words took seed in each of their worried minds.</p><p>    "Are you sure?" Louie asked as he walked up to his uncle, his hands fiddled with his hoodie strings which was an often call out for others to know how worried he actually was. Donald smiled softly and rubbed the top of Louie's head to put those worried to rest and comfort the mind.</p><p>    "Yeah, I just need to go think for a bit." He answered with a tired smile. Louie looked up when his uncle's hand left his head, Louie fought the urge to grab his uncle’s hand and press it back on his head in order to keep the worry away and keep his uncle there with him. They all watched though as Donald walked out of the mansion. Not one of the kids dared to stop him, neither one of them knew rather it would be a good idea or not. Scrooge began to take a step forward and go after his nephew, but Mrs. Beakley put a hand on his shoulder that he could easily brush off if he really wanted to. Scrooge looked up at her and with a simple head motion and a sad look Scrooge gave a stiff nod before he lowered his head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The idea of everything going back to normal right after the staged funeral faded away within a few days. Nothing in the manor felt normal and it began to eat away at the residence. Everyone noticed how distant Donald was and it made the manor feel off, even though Donald lived outside of the manor in his house boat the lack of his presence still weighed on them. Even though he did not live in the manor he was often around it or inside it. Somewhere to be found if he was needed for anything, he was a call or a room away. Donald had habits and schedules that everyone knew of and after the fake death those habits stopped.  </p><p>      He no longer walked the grounds of the manor like he used to do when he needed to calm down after a stressful day of dead-end job hunting.  Huey noticed that his uncle no longer walked one lap around the grounds before he would walk into the garden. That struck the duckling as odd so he went to see if he could find his uncle in the garden, to see if everything was alright. </p><p>      He used the excuse that he needed to update his junior woodchuck journal on the latest flora that was held in the large garden as his reason to suddenly go out in the garden. An excuse he actually used to do while back when they first moved in or when he just needed to move around and get rid of the feeling of wasting away in front of the couch. Now he used the excuse to go to the hidden garden inside the garden that his uncle made. Where he grew his own vegetables that he had hidden away from the eyes of others. A secret they kept after Huey caught his uncle in the act of planting carrots and other vegetables, dressed in overalls, gardening gloves and an old sun hat.</p><p>      “Uncle Donald why are you planting carrots when we could just go down to the store?” Huey asked as he walked over to his uncle, who was knelt down in freshly dug soil. Donald looked down at the newly planted row of vegetables and stood up to talk with his nephew. He let out a small groan from being on his knees for a while. </p><p>      “Because it’s relaxing,” Donald explained as he dusted himself “and nothing beats a freshly dug up vegetable that you grew.” He smiled. Huey looked at the weed pile Donald cleared and the rest of the plants that waited to be put in the dirt then back at his uncle.</p><p>     “But won’t Uncle Scrooge be upset that you’re tearing up is prize winning garden?” The duckling asked with a tilt of his head. It was true Scrooge was just as protective over his garden just like anything else he claimed and the garden had a presence among many as being the best garden in Duckburg with the ribbons to prove it. </p><p>      Donald let out a small chuckle. “Not if he doesn’t find out hence why I have it so far out the way.” He answered as he leaned over to Huey, put his whole arm over his shoulder before exaggerated a whisper. “So, we need to keep this between us gotcha or the old birds gonna make me move it.” He said and Huey let out a laugh, mostly on how ridiculous it was. The need to keep a secret garden within the garden that he and his uncle only knew of. Donald stood back with a smile and his hands on his hips. “So, can you keep a secret?” He asked while he tried to keep a stern serious look that failed immediately and they both burst into fits of laughter.  Huey straightened up and looked up at his uncle, he knew how much his uncle needed outlets like a garden in order to calm himself and how hard it was for him to find outlets like gardening. </p><p>       “Sure, thing Uncle Donald as a junior woodchuck your garden is safe with me.” Huey said placing cap on his chest and holding up is other hand in all the seriousness he could muster. Donald smiled warmly down at his nephew and ruffled up Huey’s head feathers.<br/>
“Thanks kiddo.” </p><p>        When Huey arrived to the hidden garden, he was met with a sight best described as abandoned. There he stood in the midst of a skeleton of the once lush and thriving garden. Tools sat in the dirt untouched with insects calming them, a wheel barrel was tipped over and the insides it held laid sprawled out on the ground and a sprout that was half buried in the ground. The place felt haunted and it hurt the young duck. </p><p>	But not as much as it hurt Donald to watch as his nephew walked out of the garden with his head hung low. Apart of the duck wanted to run out of his boat house and wrap his arms around the duckling, but an even stronger feeling that condemned him into his boat, where he could think and try to clear his head. It felt as though something was wrapped around his chest and it held him in place.  The feeling wasn’t new for the duck, he had felt something similar years ago after he watched his uncle’s mansion grow small in the rearview mirror as he drove three duck eggs to their new home. The dark tentacle had resurfaced once more, like before it held him tight and squeezed every ounce of energy out of him. But unlike before though he couldn’t find the strength to fight it off and he just let it squeeze him dry.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you guys so much  for the lovely comments and kudos. I do read the comments and enjoy each and everyone of them :). Apologies for the wait hit writers block and I'm in uncharted territory because I did not expect to right more than two chapters to this fic. So do please hang on with me thanks. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                The dinners at the manor were the worst for the family, a heavy awkwardness hung over all of four of the ducks as they tried their best to eat together as a family. Minus one. The sound of clanking silverware was the only noise that filled the dining hall.  As everyone tried their best to keep their minds on the meal and not on the thing that screamed for attention. The chair that Donald once sat in, the space he once filled was vacant. It had been that way for days and still no one dared comment on it.</p><p>                It stood out like an ugly thumb and for some unknown reason a rule that was never spoken or brought up seemed to keep everyone’s becks shut. They were not allowed to bring up the wound as they sat and ate. Not one of the ducklings dared bring up how the empty chair ate away at them; how unnatural it was not having Donald eat dinner with them.</p><p>                It was natural for Donald by the third or fourth day; he could no longer keep track of the days, for him to no longer feel the need to eat. The lack of an appetite did not rack against his thoughts as he swayed half consciously in his hammock. The one place in the house boat he felt comfortable being in, he only left the comfort for the necessary things and when that was done, he’d slither back in and drift in the fog that covered his mind. The fogged mind was easy to deal with those days he’s considered lucky, it was when the fog cleared and thoughts began to swell in his mind were the worst.</p><p>                The thoughts of why always came around and it felt like no answer could solve it for him. Why did he still feel the need to morn for a not dead duck, why did his chest still ached on days the numbness did not come, why did no one tell him about the elaborate plan? If he was not asking himself these questions, he was asking himself what was wrong with himself.</p><p>                What did he do to be left out on so much of the kids lives? They use to be close, closer than he ever thought he be to his nephews and recently added niece. Yet he felt like he no longer knew any of them. Was it all because he put up his adventuring style for a semi normal life, the same life he wanted his kids to have, so they did not have to face the dangers he faced when he was younger? Did that make it so they could no longer fill him in on anything that went on in their lives away from him? Did he even matter in the family anymore?  </p><p>                The questions that played on loop like an old scratched record in his head that the more it turned the more warped he felt. For all the questions had the same answers and that he was not good enough. He never was.  Compared to all the others that played a role the families lives; he was the one that stuck out and he knew it. He no longer had that spark of adventure that he once had in his youth, but after the events that took away his sister, he was left damaged and what healed over time was now jagged and missed place. He hated the answer, but for him it was the truth and the truth always did hurt.  </p><p>                A small knock broke through the down hill thoughts that infested Donald’s brain and nearly knocked him out of the hammock. It was the first time someone actually came up to the house boat and not just walk past it with a glance.</p><p>                “Uncle Donald,” a small voice called out behind the door, “it’s me Louie.” Donald raised his head and looked towards the door in surprise and the sudden visit. “You missed dinner again.” The last word came out as a soft whisper that Donald still caught and he slowly sat up as he felt the ache in his chest slowly die down.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Louie stood outside his uncle’s house boat, a semi hot plate of food in his hands and a guilty conscience as he kept repeating what happened the day of the funeral. He was the one in charge of telling his uncle about what was going on that day and he failed, miserably he might add to himself even if no one said it. Louie was actually surprised that the one mistake he made could cause such a large feeling of guilt to flood his mind.  It made no sense to the young duck, he was known as the mischievous triplet, the one that could lie his way out of anything. He could sell glasses to a blind man and walk away without a care, yet he there he stood on the boat he called home with a plate of food wanting his uncle to come out.</p><p>                It surprised him that no one else had made a move to get Donald out of the boat after what felt like weeks, but what was really only a few days. They all seemed to be walking around the issue instead of taking it head on like they should have in the first place. Everyone saw what was happing around the place and no one did anything about it.  </p><p>                So, after everyone finished dinner, he made his move to fix what was wrong and hopefully he could fix things for good. As everyone one exited the dinning room to go do their own nightly activities, Louie snuck off into the kitchen. Loui let out a heavy breath of relief when he peeked inside, Mrs. Beakley was nowhere to be seen and she had left the remaining food out on the counter. Probably to let it cool off before he packed it away in the fridge.  He knew of one way to get a duck out of their room, his uncle did it all the time so maybe it could work in his favor like it did for Uncle Donald.</p><p>                “What are you doing?”  Louie let out a startled yelp as he nearly fell off the counter. He clutched his chest as turned around to be surprised to see Webby, Huey and Dewy all standing behind him with all different looks of curiosity. “Well?” Webby continued as she tried to look out Louie’s body to see what he was hiding.</p><p>                “Nothing, nope not a thing.” He said as he tried to match his body with the direction of everyone’s point of view to hide the plate.</p><p>                “I don’t buy it.” Dewy said as he stepped next to Webby and raised an eyebrow. “Do you Webby?”</p><p>                Webby shook her head “Nope not even close.”</p><p>                “Come on Louie no one’s buying it.” Huey said as he motioned to the group, “so spill it.” Louie deflated at that point and slid off the counter and hung his head.</p><p>                “Alright I’m going to try and get Uncle Donald off the boat.” He said as he looked up to the group.</p><p>                “With a plate of spaghetti?” Dewey asked as he walked up to the counter and peered at the overly full plate of pasta.</p><p>                “Well, ya that’s how Uncle Donald use to get us to come out of our room when we would lock ourselves away,” It was true for all of them. After a bad day, of either an adventure gone wrong, a bad grade or just a classic case of the blues. When anyone of them refused to talk or come out with refusal to listen to anyone and make the repeatable promise to never come out, it was Donald who always managed to do the impossible.  A small knock would get their attention, no threat of barging in just a plate of food would be his weapon of choice that and patience to wait it out. He would stand and sometimes sit outside their door for hours and wait it out with them. Now and then he would fill in the silence with his humorous mix ups he had on a job or lately tales of his adventures he had when he was young while also making reference to the food he had on hand.</p><p>                He would always comment on how the food was either getting cold or warm and how it would be inhumane to let that happen. Or he would tease about being left out there by himself and how he couldn’t hold off the need to eat it all up. Anything to get a small laugh out of who ever was on the other side of the door. Before he would lay down words of comfort, it was whatever they needed to hear that he would say and it always would work out in the end. The duckling would crack open the door and see their uncle standing there with a plate and a warm smile with the promise of comfort.  </p><p>                “And it’s all my fault he’s like this anyway.” Louie mumbled as he looked away from them and everyone seemed shocked at Louie’s statement.</p><p>                “Louie.” Webby said as she went to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Louie moved out of her reach; not wanting her or anyone’s comfort.</p><p>                “Oh please,” He broke out with tears running down if checks. “It was my job to tell Uncle Donald that Scrooge was faking it and I failed massively at that.” He spoke though anger at himself. “If I’d just remembered to that none of this would be happening right now!” Louie yelled as he waved around the kitchen before lowering his head.</p><p>                “Hey that’s not true it’s not your fault.” Webby said as she placed a hand on his shoulder</p><p>                “Yeah, you had a lot more to do that day then just telling Uncle Donald,” Dewey said as he placed a hand on his brother’s other shoulder. “like getting the decorations and making all it believable while also informing the media.” He added.</p><p>                “The truth is Louie no one is blaming you on what is happening.” Huey said as they all went in for a much-needed group hug. When they pulled away, they all stood there in silence as a weight that seemed to be on all of them began to feel like it was being lifted. “I think what you are doing is the best idea anyone of use could come with.” Huey said as he looked at Webby and Dewey who nodded their head in agreement. Huey grabbed the plate of spaghetti and handed it to his brother and smiled. Louie took the plate and smiled back at his brother with determination.</p><p>                So, there he stood outside his uncle’s door, with thought after thought on how to get him to come out. One after the other played out and none of them stuck with him. He did not have a plane, but he had to try. With a deep breath Louie knocked at the door.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once more sorry for the late post, I'm not doing this on purpose I promise. I have the ideas running around in my head, it's just catching them and putting them to words is a whole nother issue hahaha :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Not a sound came from the other side of the door, liked he hopped when he called out to his uncle. Not a clank from surprise, not a quack followed with a thud from his uncle falling on something that was left on the floor. Nothing it was dead silence on the others side and it worried the duckling. Louie glanced at the kitchen window to see Dewey, Huey and Webby crammed together with wide eyes.</p><p>                “Mrs. B made spaghetti and you can’t eat it from inside there,” He said after a second of no answer “With homemade bread sticks.” He smiled and teased knowing that no one could pass up Mrs. Beakley’s bread sticks. But there was no answer. Louie let out a sigh and fought with the idea of just leaving the food at the door and taking off, but the others were counting on him to bring their uncle back to them. Louie straightened himself out and took a confident breath.  </p><p>                “Listen Uncle Donald, it’s been like forever since you came and had dinner inside with us and we all know you hadn’t fixed the fridge ever since Dewy tried to preserve that phoenix egg he found,” Louie waited for a second before he continued, “I mean you use to make sure we ate like all the time and you would always tell us how it’s not good to skip a meal or more.” Louie shifted his stance and still no answer from his uncle. With each wave of silence, the duckling became more anxious. What if the same thing Donald did for them wouldn’t work on him? What if it didn’t work for adults and he was just bothering the duck even more? Even more so that Donald would never come out again.  No, he had to carry on with the idea that it would work out. For Uncle Donald and the rest of the family.</p><p>                “What I’m just saying it’s kinda irresponsible of you to be doing this,” Louie continued as he tried to play on the more parental side of his uncle and the idea of him not setting the best example for the kids. Maybe that might drive him to open the door it was a long shot and the duckling could feel the shot miss the target. Louie couldn’t see, but one by one his siblings left the window, each one with their head lowered and sadness washed over them.  “So please open the door.” Louie said in almost a hushed tone.</p><p>                Donald sat still for a moment as he stared at the door and his body slightly shook, the tiny plea that came from his nephew hit him like bullet. Whatever that incased his heart and fogged his mind he felt shatter when he sat up in his hammock in a cold daze with the first knock that came on the other side. The duck couldn’t move while he listened to his nephew try to coach him out. <em> They do care. </em> He thought as he sluggishly slipped out the well-used hammock. He wasn’t surprised at the shutter of cold as his foot made connected with the cold wooden floor.  Along when his left leg gave out under his right from under him, he should have known laying in the same spot would have caused the limb to ache in pain after not being used for a while.</p><p>                He waited for the hard throbs in the leg to stop he didn’t want to walk at all. Just stand there in the dark silence while he collected himself, but another smaller knock came from behind the door. That was enough to get him to start limping towards the door, he couldn’t let his kid stand outside any longer worrying about him. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be at all, the adult worried over the child never the other way around in his eyes. What type of parent would he be if he let that role reverse?</p><p>                After on last knock Louie watched the door for a sign, before he glanced over at the widow and wasn’t shocked when he noticed that everyone had left their spot. It gave the duckling the sign he needed, the plane, his plane wasn’t going to work out after all. For what felt like the tenth time that night he let out a sigh and turned his back on the door and began to walk away. <em>Maybe Beakly was right, maybe Uncle Donald needed time to himself.</em> Louie thought, before he heard it, the sound that would never be thought of as important to anyone else on the planet. The sound of the door to the house boat opening right behind him.</p>
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